the lizard brain’s hunger for reassurance is a curse. it devours faith like prey, to be spit out, mangled and unrecognizable at some later date, when misfired synapse firings turn into memory lapsing and the truth of what once was is shredded; discards of its former self.
our dependence upon this: how do we lose it? as for myself, i think only of the seasonal ebb and flow, where if all societal restraints were let loose and indulgence were absolute, i might climb into the most remote of spaces and spend countless hours, losing track of reality, in order to find destiny. i might repeat the pattern of current verbal meanderings without so much as a second thought or second guess as to who might be reading and when — but operating simply for the pure quest of it; all else sorted with the rest of it, when rest at last finally hits. not the rest at the end of a long day, when achey muscles vibrate like a warm throbbing massage, lulling you into a thoughtless coma… but the type of rest that comes from so fully exploring some corner of your mind or body that for a series of extended moments, you think, albeit incorrectly, that you have reached the end: there are no more thoughts to think which are worthy of thinking, and no more movements to move which the body is capable of moving.
yes, THAT absolutism, i am thinking now, is a remedy to the lizard brain’s nit-picking tittering impulse to lick lick lick and click click click its way into endless itching. to forget those minor instances of satisfaction, which are never truly satisfying, really, through seeking out the deep scratch; the massage penetrating into your bones and your soul, to discover the scared child or the self-conscious person, or whichever other true reason, you need reassurance despite the fact that you already ought to be assured, day in, day out, of your worth.
2018 december 26 _ 1:29am _ livermore, california